


The Old Man and the Thief

by Ursula



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Domestic Discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-10
Updated: 2005-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: Methos, the oldest living immortal takes a student





	The Old Man and the Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

The Old Man and the Thief

 

For those who know Methos, but not Cory, he was a dashing immortal thief who robbed from the rich to give to the poor and had a wonderful time doing it. He was, of course, played with charm and verve by Nick Lea, Krycek on the X-Files)

 

And for those who know Cory, but not Methos, Methos was the oldest living immortal, a wry, pragmatic, beer-swilling man, who once Death of the Four Horseman. Peter Wingfield played him wonderfully.

 

The Old Man and the Thief

 

It was none of Methos' business and if he hadn't learned in all his centuries to mind his own business...

 

Still, out of all the possible ways to die, a bad hanging was way down on his list. The only thing that rated much worse was a burning or a disemboweling. He frowned as he saw the man's toes touch the ground again. 

 

Bastards!

 

Even his stomach rebelled against this cruelty. As Death, he had been the swiftest killer of the four Horsemen. He had never been inclined to torture even when human life had little value to him.

 

Enough!

 

Methos stepped forward and jerked hard on the twitching legs. The pre-immortal kicked once as his neck broke, shuddered, and died.

 

The sheriff's men didn't bother to bury the man deep. They had stripped him of his few belongings, dumped him in a shallow grave, and scattered a few shovels of dirt over him. 

 

Well and good, less work for Methos...

 

~~~~~

 

The last thing he remembered was hands tugging on his ankles. There was one sharp pain and then it ended. Now, his neck hurt, but it was easing by the moment. He felt wonderful, glorious, and lusty as a 

stallion.

 

Cory opened his eyes, peering out from beneath the soft fronds of his eyelashes. Hmm, very good looking man. He had nice eyes, intelligent expression. His nose was big...didn't they say big nose, big...

 

Cory licked his lips. He looked around. They were alone. Cory had learned a long time ago that men and women act very differently when it was just he and they...

 

Lovely, ah, Cory needed to be loved. Of course, there were mysteries here, but first, his need must be met.

 

~~~~~

 

Well, this was not a typical awakening. The smile that greeted Methos was as abundantly sexual as any priest of Pan. The green eyes were like fire and the lips parted lushly and wetly. Strong hands guided 

him down and the mouth was sweet as wine.

 

So much for finding the thief another teacher...

 

Methos thought that this one could teach him a thing or too. "What's your name," he asked.

 

"Cory," the man said.

 

"Cory, you are beautiful," Methos admired as he bent to kiss the lovely face. His nose brushed Cory's face, but the tiny snub nose that decorated the face presented no obstacle to a kiss. His new student tugged off the tunic that Methos wore and had off his hose as if it was a magic trick. 

 

"I'm Adam," the old man said.

 

"Adam," Cory said, buzzing the name against his teacher's lips.

 

As young as the new immortal was, there was no doubt that he needed no teacher at the art of love. He was clever, passionate, sweet, humorous and dear. Methos reminded himself that he shouldn't become 

attached. Young immortals were like luscious wind-fallen fruit to the average immortal. He would be lucky to get the boy past his apprenticeship...

 

~~~~

 

For a peasant that had never held a sword in his life, Cory took to it like a duck to water. He was agile, quick-witted, and strong. Methos started to believe his student had a chance. Not at being the one, Cory was never going to care about being the last surviving 

immortal, but Methos thought that Cory might last at least a normal span of life, all that he could have expected before becoming an immortal.

 

They kept to the forest for the most part. Methos didn't trust his charge to the urban areas where a predatory immortal might challenge.

 

Some weeks after finding his student, having put it off as long as possible, Methos had to go get Cory a decent sword. The one he had been using for practice was crude, heavy, and ill suited. Methos had taken it off the last ambitious immortal that went after his head. 

 

The small church outside of town would be a safe place to leave Cory. Methos sternly said, "This is holy ground. Don't venture a step out of the church yard."

 

Right...

 

Cory was a brat.

 

A disobedient willful brat.

 

Methos came back to rag-clad woman and her hoard of snot-nosed kids swarming all over Cory. He had a feeling about this.

 

"Good sir, thank you, sir, thank you!" the woman cried, kissing Cory's hands.

 

"It was nothing," Cory said, smirking.

 

"What was nothing?" Methos asked in his coldest voice and with an expression that would have made a village weep when he was Death.

 

"My teacher," Cory said, indicating Methos with a happy smile.

 

Now the wisp of a woman turned her effusive fawning to Methos. "Sir, your apprentice had saved us from starvation. My husband was a poor brush picker, but he kept a roof over our head until they falsely 

accused him of taking the King's deer. I can tell you we never tasted as much as a gravy spot of deer. A rabbit was a rare treat! But they hung him none the less. I've tried to work, but it is so hard to gather brush with all these children. I came to the priest to ask him to buy me a loom and he told me to pray for salvation...I've prayed each week, but it has not kept my children from growing weak from hunger. I came here to plead one last time and the priest threatened to have me imprisoned! Then this dear young man said he would help me. I have enough gold to buy a loom and the wool."

 

Her oldest son, a solemn lad who seemed all eyes and bones in his ragged tunic, said, "And sheep, mother. If we have sheep, we'll have wool all the time."

 

"And a goat to milk!" said the biggest girl, flinging her arms around a beaming Cory.

 

"Charming," remarked Methos. He looked at Cory and said, "Perhaps it might be good to start your new life a township or so over. We'll take you."

 

~~~~~

 

A few days later, Methos helped the woman close the lease with a friendly lord, whom he knew to be honest and kind to those in his domain. The croft she rented would sustain the goats, three of them, two nans and a sire. Methos even knew a type of goat that would yield hair that mixed with wool would produce the finest cloth that England had ever seen. 

 

As Methos said good-bye to the oldest child, who reminded the immortal of the vaguest of his memories...had he once been a mortal boy, happy herding his goats? Best not to try to remember...

 

~~~~~

 

That night as Methos and Cory made camp, Cory said, "Glad to be rid of good wife, Mary, and her brood. Now, we can make love."

 

Methos watched Cory undress as he stropped a green branch smooth with his brush knife. It was a willow branch, supple and strong. He carefully removed the bark and all the small offshoots. 

 

"Yes, privacy is something we've really needed," said Methos.

 

Cory scraped the hair off his chin and bathed, shivering near the fire. He smiled winsomely as he smoothed oil between his cheeks, preparing himself for Methos.

 

Methos appreciated that about his student. Cory was instinctively clean as a cat. He purred when stroked too. 

 

"Aren't you going to bathe?" Cory asked.

 

"In good time," Methos said. "Come here, love."

 

Tugging Cory down beside him, Methos asked, "Where did you get the gold, love?"

 

"From the bishop," Cory said. "It's not right for him to ask for tithes even from the poorest peasant when he wears gold and has a fat mistress in his abbey. He won't report it, Adam. I caught him naked over her lap with lady's garters about his plump thighs. She was 

spanking him with her brush. I showed him that I could write and let him know that I would leave the story with an honest priest, rare fellow, and if the sheriff would hear, so would every fellow in the 

land about what the bishop does in his private chambers."

 

"And you did this from the church?" Methos said.

 

"Of course not," Cory said, tossing his long brown ringlets.

 

"Then you disobeyed me?" Methos said, grasping Cory's hand and tugging him down.

 

The lad's ass was like silk. Methos stroked the peach fuzz on the lower thighs and admired the bare cheeks. His finger hesitated over the dimples and teased the indentation that led to the separation of the mounds of delight. That would have to wait.

 

Cory's instincts were engaged. He said, "It was for a good cause, teacher. I won't do it again."

 

"You won't because I'm going to help you remember,' Methos said. He tripped Cory and laid him over a handy log. 

 

The switch was thin and supple. Not stiff enough to do any damage or to break the skin. The pale beauty of the ass bloomed stripes of rose. Methos had a strong arm, honed from years of bearing heavy blades. He was skilled and plied his willow branch cleverly to pink 

the flesh and sting without breaking the flesh once.

 

"You will not endanger yourself," Methos said, as the switch struck the immortal's ass.

 

"Ow, no, master, I won't! Have mercy! Ow, it hurts," Cory shouted, carrying on like a boy, kicking his feet and weeping.

 

"It will heal," Methos said, as every immortal had cause to say to his or her student.

 

"Ten strokes for each transaction. Ten for leaving the church yard. Ten for stealing without my permission. Ten for not telling me where you found the gold," Methos said.

 

Cory could wail and weep with as whole a heart as he could laugh and make love. Methos felt like having mercy, but he reminded himself that Cory needed to learn. 

 

But when the last stripe was laid, Methos smoothed the oil over his student's offended ass, which was now flaming hot and red as fire.

 

Cory sniffled and moved around to cling to Methos. "I'm sorry," he wailed. "I didn't mean to make you worry or endanger you."

 

Methos hugged him and ruffled the satin curls. "You must take care, Cory. You could live for centuries if you are cautious."

 

Bright green eyes blinked back tears that sparkled at diamonds on his black velvet lashes.

 

"Adam, I'll never be cautious, but I don't want to make you angry. I'd rather lose my head then lose your love."

 

The words were rushing to his lips that Methos didn't love Cory, but he stopped them as the old man's heart melted. He realized it wasn't true. There was no other name for what he felt. Methos blinked back his own tears and kissed Cory's forehead. His student's tears fell onto the old immortal's face. One warm droplet trickled down his nose. Cory's tongue licked it off. 

 

"You'll never lose my love, Cory," Methos said. 

 

"Then I'm happy," Cory said. "I'd rather a short life and merry, old man."

 

Methos led the beautiful thief of hearts to the bed they had made in the Greenwood. "Long and merry...long and merry..."

 

As the fire dimmed before the passion of the immortals, Methos thought, 'who's to say that a moment of joy is shorter than an entire century of caution..."

 

Certainly not, the immortal Cory...

 

The beginning...


End file.
